A Different Kind of Mockingjay
by the melon lord 2.0
Summary: If there's a such thing as star-crossed friendships, Rue has a talent for stumbling into them. It was never her intention to make the Games more difficult for anybody, and she certainly wasn't out to make a point. But accidents do happen, and sometimes they have a bigger impact than anyone could possibly imagine.
1. Chapter 1

**I: The Beginning**

It starts with the knife.

Seeder is the one who tells me to get the Gamemakers' attention. She says that they watch recordings of us training, and that some of them even come live and see everything through one-way glass. Usually they only pay attention to the weapons stations, but she thought that maybe I could make a bit of an impression if I did something really special.

Since my biggest talent is being sneaky, I decided that I should do something to show them how sneaky I am.

For the first part of the session, I'm not entirely sure how to go about doing so. Then I find my focus drifting to the Careers. Cato throws knives with Clove, while Marvel and Glimmer squabble over a bow at the archery session. Eventually their noise gets to be too much for the District Two tributes, and Cato sets down his knife and stomps over to break up their argument.

That's when I get the idea. I can show everyone that I'm sneaky _and _brave.

I quietly make my way over to where all of the Careers are arguing. After making sure that they're all appropriately diverted, I pluck the knife off the table and disappear behind a bunch of training equipment. Then, just to be safe, I scatter up the climbing ropes until I'm pressed right up against the ceiling.

Once I'm settled in, I look down at the Careers to make sure none of them saw-

-and gasp with fear when my eyes lock with Marvel's. He's disentangled himself from the spat and is hovering a few feet away, with his lips twisted into a very amused smirk. My heart stops and I wait for him to call me out on what I did, but instead he _winks _and gives me a thumbs up, and then walks pointedly away from Cato.

Getting out of the way before the storm hits.

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding, and slump against the ropes.

He didn't tell, and it doesn't look like he's going to either. It's so easy to forget, seeing all the Careers laughing with each other and training together, but they really aren't friends. Marvel probably doesn't like Cato. Probably thinks it's funny that I picked on him.

It's sad, almost. That they really can't trust each other. But right now I'm more relieved about it than anything, because I know that Cato would've went after me right away in the arena if he knew I'd taken his knife. At least I don't have to worry about _that_.

I smile with relief, and wait until Cato is finished throwing his fit before I return to the ground. Discreetly, I place the knife exactly where I found it.

When Cato sees it there a little bit later, his cheeks turn red. My eyes travel to Marvel, and this time I'm close enough to see that his eyes are very pale green, and dancing with laughter.

…

I sneak down to the training room to work with weapons later that night. I told Seeder about my idea to follow Katniss and Peeta and learn what I can from them, and she said that was fine, but that I should maybe work a little bit extra on defending myself too.

I'd had enough time during the day to visit some of the stations and learn the basics, but hadn't gotten the opportunity to really practice anything, so I'd asked Seeder if I could maybe go down later at night. She shrugged and said it was fine, and so that's exactly what I do.

The room is very eerie when it's empty, but I like it better this way. It's downright scary during the day, when everyone is learning to use maces and knives and swords. When they're all learning how to _kill each other_.

Now all the tributes are gone, and it isn't quite so terrifying.

I go to the knife station right away. It's the most practical. Spears and swords and things like maces or axes are probably too big for me. But knives are small. I can use knives.

I look through the collection and pick one that looks like it'd fit in my hand well, and then I hold it the way the man at the station told me to. It feels okay, but when I flick my wrist and send it flying towards a dummy, it misses completely.

I frown and try again. This time it hits the dummy but doesn't stick. Next throw, I try to copy Clove instead of just doing what the man taught me. She's the closest tribute to my size, and she was _really _good with knives, so I hope that moving like she does will maybe help. I can't quite recall exactly what her form was like, but I do remember how sharply she followed through. I make sure to do the same.

The knife only nicks the dummy's shoulder, but it leaves a mark.

Someone claps behind me, and I yelp in surprise. Quickly, I turn around and tell myself to be brave, that no one can hurt me _yet_, but my bravery goes away really quickly when I see Marvel sauntering towards me. I hadn't noticed before, but he's _at least _a foot and a half taller than I am. He's smiling too, which scares me even more than his intimidating size.

Careers aren't supposed to smile, and I find myself worrying that he's like the sharks I've read about in my science books, except that instead of being attracted to blood, Marvel likes the smell of _fear_. I worry that he can hear my pounding heart and sense the adrenaline pumping through my bloodstream, and that he's taking pleasure in it.

It's ridiculous, but I am absolutely certain that he's smiling because I am _afraid. _

"You're a clever little rat, aren't you?" he asks lightly. "You have two bad tosses and figure that something must be wrong. So you adapt. And improve." His eyes are the color of sea glass. "It's what animals do to survive."

"I- is that what you see me as?" I ask in a shaking voice. "An a-animal?"

Marvel shrugs.

"Or a target."

He says it so dispassionately that it scares me even further, because I realize in that moment that I don't want to be killed by someone who thinks I'm a _target. _I want the person who kills me to _know _that they're taking a life. It's unlikely that Marvel will be the exact person who takes me out, but he's here and he has to listen, and maybe he'll even let his allies know what I have to say.

"I-I am a person," I choke out. My voice trembles and I take a deep breath and force myself to sound just a little bit more confident. "My name is Rue. I… I like to sing and watch the clouds with my best friend and I have five little siblings." I look down and whisper the last part: "The youngest two probably won't remember me if I die in the arena."

His eyes flash. His smile fades. He did not want to know that, and now he is angry with me.

"You are a _target_," he hisses. Like he needs to remind himself. "An outer district _rat_, and I will kill you if I get the chance."

"Of course you will, Marvel," I say. I don't want to be here alone with him anymore, and I start walking away. Before I leave, I find myself whispering, "And I don't hold it against you. Your life isn't worth any less than mine, and you want to get home too."

He chokes on his next breath, but I keep walking, too intent on getting away from him to notice.

…

I practice knives at training the next day.

I hear Marvel before I see him, because he walks like an ox. It's hard to believe, that someone Thresh's size can move so very quietly, but a person as lean as Marvel seems unable to get anywhere without slapping his feet against the floor.

With the peacekeepers around and so many witnesses surrounding us, I even feel safe enough to find his utter lack of grace a little bit funny.

"How did you know my name?" he asks, a second after coming to a stop beside me.

Without waiting for an answer, he casually picks up a knife and makes to toss it. I halt my own throw and watch him, paying careful attention to his form. His long arms give him powerful leverage, and the dummy rocks when the knife slams into its stomach.

It's scary, how much force he puts behind it, but I can't help but notice that the movement is slow and inefficient. He throws knives the same way he'd throw a spear. It isn't good form, and I decide not to try to copy it.

I flick my own knife. I've gotten a little better with extra help from the instructor. This time, it sticks in the dummy's side.

Then I look at Marvel.

"I know all of the tributes' names."

"That makes them harder to kill," he says, in a voice that tells me he thinks I'm an idiot.

I smile sadly and pick up another knife.

"I don't think I have much chance at killing anyone anyway," I tell him honestly. This time, the knife clunks off the dummy's chest and falls to the ground, emphasizing my point. I make a face. "I really don't want to try. Maybe… maybe I won't have to."

His knife lodges in the dummy's throat. It wobbles back and forth seven times before stopping.

"You're pathetic," Marvel says.

We're quiet for a while. I get several good sticks and can't help but feel a little bit proud of my progress.

Marvel never misses.

My arm tires before his, and when I stop to take a break, I look at him and ask, without really thinking about it, "Why did you volunteer?"

He's in the middle of his throwing motion, and the knife soars over the dummy's head and clatters against the wall behind it.

"_That_," he says, "is none of your business."

Then he walks away.

…

I don't expect Marvel to return to the training room that night, but he's already there when I arrive. I hover in the doorway for some time, watching with wide eyes while he launches spears at dummy after dummy. I have no doubt that his form with _this _weapon is perfect. Several times, he throws so forcefully that his targets fall over backwards.

I imagine that it would be very painful to be on the receiving end of one of those tosses, and the thought scares me enough that I almost leave.

I don't.

Instead, I take a deep breath and amble forward, until I'm standing next to the knife station. I know that Marvel hears me, but he doesn't acknowledge my presence. After some time, I forget that he's there and start focusing on my technique as the _thud _of his spears fades into the background.

Then the noise stops and suddenly his footsteps are slapping against the hard floor, all the way up until they come to a stop right beside me.

"My father doesn't respect me," Marvel says suddenly, his voice low. "That's why I volunteered. Because everyone respects victors."

It takes me a second to place why he's telling me this, but then I remember my question from earlier and I suddenly understand. Pity that he wouldn't want me to feel squeezes at my heart, and I want to tell him _I'm sorry _and _your father is an idiot, _but I know he wouldn't like that.

So instead I turn and give him a little smile and say, "Thank you for answering me."

He crosses his arms over his chest and grunts.

I go to throw and he says, "Elbow in."

I hesitate because his form really _wasn't _all that good, but then I realize that maybe that's on purpose—that his motion is long and slow because he'd rather get more force behind his knives than get off quicker throws. I mean, I'd imagine that his Career training would have taught him how to throat a knife properly, if he wanted to.

I shoot him a grateful smile, and then I throw again—this time making sure to keep my elbow in.

The knife hits the target dead on.

"Can I make you a deal?" I ask, looking at him suddenly. Marvel gestures for me to keep speaking, and I go on, "If you can help me throw knives, I'll show you how to walk quietly." He rolls his eyes and opens his mouth and I know that he's going to tell me how stupid of a trade that is, but I interrupt before he can. "I stole Cato's knife and he didn't notice. If you could do that in the arena…"

He grins.

"I could sneak up on the motherfucker and stab him in the back." His tone alarms me and I don't do a very good job at hiding it, but Marvel only smiles sheepishly. "Sorry." He clears his throat. "Now, pick up the knife again, but try tightening your grip just a little…"

We keep going until I get five good hits in a row. Then he makes me start teaching him.

It's _fun_.

I show him how to walk on the balls of his feet and how to distribute weight and the right way to move his hips. Then, since he won't be walking all that much in the arena, I show him how to run too. Then we go over how to land after jumping.

I like that part the most.

"Imagine you're a bird," I say. "And land like you don't really want to be touching the ground at all. It's really easy."

Then I jump off one of the training platforms I talked him onto, and ghost silently to the floor.

"For you," Marvel pants. He's red-faced and more out of breath than I am, but he always listens and hasn't asked for a break. He is very determined. "You weigh about five pounds. If I were that size, I could be quiet too."

"It's not about size," I tell him, thinking of Thresh. "You just have to know how to move. Now try."

He jumps and his feet clatter against the floor. I can't quite hold back a laugh, and Marvel sends me an almost _playful _glare. Then he takes a deep breath and drags himself back up onto the platform.

"Watch how you distribute your weight—it should be the same as you did when we worked on walking and running."

I think maybe he lands a little more quietly this time. Maybe. But not as quietly as he _could _land.

"Let's try something different. You need to get lighter on your feet, and this isn't helping as much as I'd like." I reach out and grab one of his hands and tell him, "Dance with me."

I think I surprise him so much that he can't form the right words to say no. Instead, he manages awkwardly, "There's no music."

So I start singing a District Eleven folk song, and do my best to lead Marvel through the steps. We figure it out after a while, and once the quick footwork and fancy movements click, it turns out that he's actually a good dancer. A lot less unwieldy than I would've thought, and his big feet only step on mine three or four times.

We do several more dances after that, and then I make him walk again, and then run again, and then jump again. And even though he isn't good yet, he's certainly a lot better.

I tell him so, and he smiles so genuinely that I can tell he doesn't get complimented very often. I remember what he said about his father and suddenly I very much want to slap that man in the face.

Except then we stop outside the training room and Marvel scratches his head awkwardly and says, "Goodnight Rue."

And suddenly all I can think about is that he acknowledged I have a name.

…

...

**Author's Note: **

**I actually wrote this last summer, decided it was too odd, and left it to die on my computer. But since I haven't been producing much lately and don't have any stories finished except a single one-shot, I started looking back through my old Documents for rejected one-shots and mostly-finished works and found this. It's four or five chapters (I'm too lazy to check) of about this length, and is completely finished. **

**It'll read very quickly, and the character progression will be fast because of it. That's mainly because it was intended to be a one-shot but grew a bit too long to be posted in one go; I apologize if it makes anyone seem OOC.**

**Any criticisms or support would be much appreciated, especially because I don't think anyone has written anything like this before. I guess I just noticed that everyone always seems to connect the two, even unfavorably. I mean, they died at the same time, and Marvel is pretty much solely remembered because of his role in Rue's death. It's a twisted connection, but I think it can have a good dynamic if it's handled right. Anyway, there are depressingly few Rue-centric fics, so this will hopefully go towards helping that as well. **

**That's pretty much everything... I'll post again in a few days, when the next chapter is edited and everything. **


	2. Chapter 2

**II: An Unlikely Friendship**

He finds me during training the next day, when I'm trailing Katniss and Peeta.

"You watch them a lot," he says. "It's because she volunteered for her sister, isn't it?"

I nod.

"It is. I have little siblings, and they're all too young… but if things were different, and one of them had gotten reaped, I don't know if I would've done what Katniss did."

Marvel shocks me when he offers a lopsided smile.

"Of course you would've. You're too good not to."

I'm surprised to find that his words actually sound sincere. I don't know if I agree with him, but he makes me smile nonetheless.

Only then he keeps talking, and suddenly I'm not smiling so much anymore.

"I feel stupid when you talk like that. About volunteering like it's a sacrifice. Something to be done as a last resort, to save someone else." He nods towards Katniss. "She threw her life away for something. I… jumped on the chance to do so, when I really didn't have to."

"Your father-" I start.

"If I have to do this to gain his respect," says Marvel, looking straight at me, "I don't think it's worth it."

I realize that my words and my pushing have caused him to regret his decision to volunteer, and it makes me feel so guilty that it hurts. I've made this harder on him than it needs to be, because _I _wanted him to recognize me as a person. Now he does, but he also he wishes he wasn't here even though it's too late to do anything about it.

I can't _imagine _how that must feel.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

He looks at me sadly.

"So am I."

Then he makes his way back over to the Careers and starts laughing and joking with them, except I notice a stiffness in his posture and a sadness in his eyes that wasn't there before.

…

"I told my mentor about you," says Marvel that evening. "He says that I'm stupid and lack discipline."

"You aren't stupid," I argue. I make to throw a knife, but he grabs my arm and stops me. Adjusts my grip. I toss it and it sticks in the dummy's stomach and then I look back at him. "But you do lack discipline. If you were like Cato or Clove, you wouldn't have let me get to you."

He scowls.

"Believe me. I know."

"I'm glad you're different… I like spending time with you like this," I go on gently, hoping to make it better. His scowl softens but doesn't go away, and I know that he isn't happy with himself. Trying to lighten the mood, I say casually, "You got a nine in training. Did you throw spears?"

"Of course." He shakes his head. "And you got an eight. I'm not sure if I should be impressed or disgusted that a twelve-year-old almost got the same score I did."

"Only because you helped me," I assure him. "I was just going to show them what I could do with the climbing ropes, but I did the knife throwing too. I think it gave me an extra point or two."

"Either way, it's sad," says Marvel. "I've been training my whole life. You've been practicing how long? Two and a half days?"

"I got most of my points from climbing, and I've been doing that my whole life," I remind him.

This seems to appease him somewhat, and with something of a smile, he says, "I suppose so. In any case, the look on Glimmer's face when she saw your score was worth it." A pause, and then he adds, "It was even more priceless when she saw Fire Girl's eleven."

I hit the dummy again and say absently, "I wonder what Katniss did."

"Something exceptional," says Marvel. "It doesn't matter how good you are with a weapon; if there isn't something that makes you _special_, you won't get more than a ten." He shakes his head, like he still can't believe it, and adds, "There've only been four elevens in history. Finnick Odair is the only tribute you might remember… probably got his by throwing his trident around naked." He smiles crookedly. "I should've tried that—might've gotten me an extra point or two."

"You're too gangly," I say, poking at one of his long arms. There _is _muscle there, but definitely not Finnick Odair-caliber muscle. "Probably would've lowered your score instead."

He laughs off my comment.

"I have a sister near your age," he says. "She's a little bitch too."

He says it affectionately, so I ignore his kind-of-insult and instead focus on the other half of his comment.

"You have a sister?"

"She's nine," he says. "And spunky. She's the only person I can think of who I really care about."

I don't know what to say to that, and he seems embarrassed that he let the words slip. I wonder if he's so open with me because I remind him of his sister, but it doesn't matter either way and so I don't ask. Instead, I turn and look at him and say, "I think I'm as good with knives as I'm gonna get. Let's work with you instead."

Marvel groans theatrically, but follows as I lead him over to the open stretch of floor we'd practiced on last night. I start us out dancing, this time with a more complicated one. He does well at first, but his long legs and big feet are getting mixed up before long, and we both wind up sprawled across the floor.

I can't help but giggle, and then Marvel starts laughing, and I almost feel a little bit happy.

We do get a little more serious after that, but not by much. He insists on trying the dance again, and we go through it until it's perfect. Then I suggest we work on jumping and running by playing tag, and the two of us chase each other around the room and through the equipment until we're both red-faced and too tired to keep it up.

Marvel stops me by the door before we go.

"Can you… come down here again tomorrow, after the interviews?" he asks haltingly. "I know it's the night before the Games, but… I want a chance to say good-bye."

Tears well up in my eyes and I reach out and wrap my arms around his waist and hold on tightly, wishing with all my heart that things were somehow different.

"I don't like good-byes," I admit hoarsely. "But I'll be there."

He reaches out and ruffles my hair.

"You don't deserve this, Rue."

I cry myself to sleep that night.

…

Marvel winks at me as he saunters onto the stage for his interview. My palms are sweaty and I feel like I'm seconds away from hyperventilating, but something about how unafraid he is calms me down.

I smile at him, and he sends me a crooked grin in return.

His interview does a good job at pushing back my nervousness too. He's really funny. I mean, I'd known that he wasn't as serious as the other Careers, but he laughs and jokes with Caesar in a way that's very natural to him. It looks like he's almost having fun, and I wonder if maybe this is what he's like normally, when the Games aren't hanging over him.

It's brilliant, how loudly he gets the audience laughing. He has the most ridiculous facial expressions, says the most over-the-top things, and even I can't help but laugh. When his buzzer goes off and he sees my eyes dancing with mirth, he looks even happier than he had when the audience started hollering for him.

My interview doesn't go so badly as I worried it would either. Caesar is very good at helping tributes look good. Since this whole mess started, I have started to really dislike Capitol people. They all seem fake and cruel, and most of them really are excited about seeing us die.

I think that maybe Caesar's gotten to know too many tributes who have died, though. There's genuine feeling in his eyes when he talks to me, and instead of making this difficult like he probably could, he eases me along and helps me say all the right things.

When my buzzer goes off and I smile at him and say, "Thank you, Caesar," I mean it, and I think he sees it too, because suddenly his eyes get just a little bit happier, so that they almost match the smile on his face.

…

"You did a really good job," I tell Marvel, when he meets me in the training room that evening. I'm sprawled out across one of the wrestling mats, and he walks over and plops down beside me.

"So did you," he says. "I think half the audience fell in love with you."

"They still won't care if I die. They'll probably cheer if it's really gruesome," I reply, just a tad morbidly.

Marvel puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. He's warm and strong and I feel almost safe with him this close.

"For you," he says, "they'll care." Then, in a lot smaller voice: "And maybe… you won't die at all."

"Maybe I won't," I agree.

I don't say anything else on the subject. Because I know that if I live, it means he won't. And I really don't want Marvel to die. I don't want anyone to die. Not him, or Katniss Everdeen, or sweet Peeta Mellark who's in love with her. I don't want Thresh to die either, because he's been nice to me and he holds open doors and smiles when I start looking really sad.

And even though maybe I haven't seen the good, gentle sides of the other tributes, I bet that they're there. If Marvel is so… so human, so _decent, _then I'm sure that even Cato and Clove and Glimmer are too.

None of us deserve this.

"I hate the Capitol," I mutter. "I hate them for making us do this."

Marvel stiffens and I suddenly realize that he's from District One and that he's been raised to think this is okay his whole life. I worry that I've said too much and he's going to be angry with me, but then he admits brokenly, "Right now, I'm not too fond of them myself."

We sit quietly for a long time after that. I know I need sleep, but I don't want to leave Marvel.

But my eyes start drooping and I can't stay longer, and so I whisper, "It's getting late."

Marvel looks at me with sad, sad eyes.

"One more dance," he says.

We only make it halfway through before my voice starts quivering and I can't sing anymore. Marvel tightens his grip on my hands and he hoarsely picks up the tune where I left off. I manage to rejoin him after a moment, but by the end of the song, we're both barely forcing the words out.

Tears run freely down my cheeks and even his eyes look shiny, and it's so unfair that I want to scream.

"I won't kill you," Marvel says before we leave. "I can't."

I know that it costs him a lot to say the words, but they mean so much to me that I'm glad he forced them out.

"Thank you," I whisper. "And… and be careful."

"Only if you do the same." He rakes a hand through his hair and takes a big, shaky breath. "Stay in the stay in the trees, Rue. Promise me that you'll stay in the trees. No one can touch you in the trees."

"I promise."

We hug one more time.

And then we part.

I look back at the same time he does, and my heart breaks when I see the tears streaking down his cheeks.

…

**Author's Note: **

**Thanks for the great responses to the first chapter of this. Again, I know that it moves quickly and that a lot of it is dialogue skipping from place to place, but I did intend for it to be a one-shot so I wasn't looking to add in long descriptions or anything. While I'm sure that might've done the story more justice, this is how it ended up. Hopefully you still think it's a worthwhile read. **

**Next chapter should be up in a few days. Please tell me what you think. **


	3. Chapter 3

**III: The Games**

**...**

The first day in the arena is the hardest. I'm scared and my hands shake, and cannons go off for the first twenty minutes straight.

I count at least ten, but I might've missed a few, and I know that Marvel was in the bloodbath and I'm worried that he has already been killed.

But I push back my fear—fear for him and fear for myself—and listen to what Marvel and Seeder both told me to do.

I climb, up and up and up, until I'm high off the ground and far enough away from the bloodshed that I almost feel safe.

That night, I poke my head out of the tree to see the faces in the sky, and Marvel's does not appear.

The shaking in my hands stops for the first time since I entered the arena.

…

The next morning, I have to come down from the trees to find roots and berries to eat, but I'm very careful and don't stay on the ground for long. Just a few minutes, and then I'm scrambling back towards the illusion of safety.

When I'm not collecting food, I keep track of as many things as I can.

I study the Career encampment and sometimes watch Marvel, who seems to have taken to leaning against the edge of the Cornucopia and twirling a knife in his hands. A spear is always right by his side, and from what I can see, he never puts his back to the other Careers.

I also find that he has developed a habit of approaching Cato from behind. It seems like a funny thing to notice, but Marvel has always been so _noisy_. That makes it pretty obvious that he's trying specifically to be quiet when he sneaks up on Cato. The District Two tribute never notices him until he's really close, and sometimes Marvel doesn't let Cato hear him at all—turns away before the other Career knows he's there.

He's seeing how close he can get without attracting attention. For later, when he's ready to end the alliance.

He does well. I remember how he implied that he'd use his sneaking lessons for stabbing Cato in the back. It doesn't sit well with me that I almost hope he manages to do it. I'm not certain what it means that I'm rooting for an eighteen-year-old boy to be killed, but that really isn't the sort of thing that's healthy to dwell on here, so I make myself quit thinking about it.

When I'm not studying the Careers, I watch the other tributes.

Marissa from District Five hovers near the Cornucopia. Whenever the Careers go out hunting, she sneaks into their camp and steals from their stock of supplies, then darts back to the trees. It's quite apparent that she doesn't have any other way of getting food.

Peeta Mellark is with the main pack, but it looks to me like he's mostly trying to make sure they don't find his district partner. I don't actually see Katniss after the first day, but her face never appears in the sky and I'm glad for it. Thresh is the only other person I actively look for, but I don't spend much time searching for him. There's a big wheat field across from the forest, and I'm sure he disappeared into there as soon as he escaped the blood bath.

For those first few days, my tribute watching is almost leisurely, since there's so little going on. I do my best to take advantage of the reprieve while I have it, because I know the people of the Capitol are expecting something exciting to happen at any moment. The Gamemakers can only increase the tension for so long before something snaps.

…

I'm not caught up in the fire, but it's easy to see. Lots of smoke and towering flames.

I worry about Marvel and I worry about Katniss Everdeen too, because the irony is too rich for the burning not to have been intended for her, so I dart through the trees, intending to try to help _someone_.

I am not expecting to find Katniss Everdeen caught in a tree.

I notice several things at once. First, the glint of the mockingjay pin she's wearing on her jacket. I can't help but think of afternoons in the orchards and bird song and passing melodies back and forth with my friends. Then I think of what she did for her sister, and the two things blend.

I come to the conclusion that I do not want her to stay stuck in that tree.

Then my eyes fall downwards, and I see the Careers standing at the base of the trunk, looking up at Katniss like hungry dogs. They're arguing about something and Cato and Clove and Glimmer look bloodthirsty. Peeta is simply staring at Katniss. Marvel stands several inches away from the rest of them, and his eyes are closed and I imagine he's thinking that he wishes it would all go away.

He must feel me watching, or something, because it's only a second after my eyes find him that he looks up and stares straight at me. There isn't even surprise in his expression—just worry. Subtly, he jerks his head in a very obvious _get out of here _gesture.

I shake my head sadly and climb further into my tree.

…

I notice the tracker jacker nest several hours later. Knowing that it's the only way, I get Katniss's attention and point it out. It's the only thing that'll get the Careers out of the way long enough for her to get down, but I also know I can't just let her drop it. Not when Marvel would be one of her potential victims.

I admire Katniss, but Marvel is my friend, and I refuse to let him get hurt.

He almost jumps out of his skin when I throw a rock at him. He holds up a knife but lowers it when he sees it's me, even though his expression remains sour. I look straight into his eyes, and then pointedly at where Katniss is cutting down the tracker jacker nest.

_I trust you not to tell the others, _I say with my eyes. _I trust that you care enough to let me help Katniss. _

He purses his lips, but nods slowly. After a moment, he begins packing his things and getting ready to run, but doesn't say a word to his fellow Careers.

When the nest falls, Marvel pretends to jerk awake. He makes a show of screaming in surprise. If the Careers survive, they will not know that he betrayed them.

Marvel sprints off instantly. Clove is the next to leave, but she's small and the venom makes her steps stutter. Katniss crawls away and Glimmer and Azora die and Cato and Peeta argue and fight and everything is confusing, but then Cato is slicing Peeta with his sword and Peeta is screaming and Cato is staggering towards the lake and I'm not sure where Katniss disappears to while all of this is going on.

All I know is that the Careers are covered in stings and Peeta is bloody and Marvel is the only one to escape unhurt.

The whole situation is awful, but I find myself relieved at its outcome nonetheless.

Katniss is not dead, Marvel is okay, and two people who might've hurt me or Katniss or Marvel are gone.

It could have been a lot worse.

…

I believe that Katniss is too good to hurt me, so when I look and find that she's laying sprawled out in the middle of the forest, I help her. I take out the tracker jacker stingers and put leaves on the bumps to draw out the poison.

I still hide when she wakes up, just to be sure, but her eyes soften when she sees me, and she draws me out from behind the tree with a smile.

We share food and conversation, and I am uncomfortably aware that I like her too. That I don't want her to lose either. Then again, there are a lot of people I don't want to lose. Peeta is too sweet and Thresh too good and Marvel… Marvel is Marvel, so obviously want him to stay alive. And I certainly want to stay alive as well.

It's a miserable situation and I hate it, and when I tell Katniss that I wish we could all go home, she hugs me tightly and whispers comforting words, and I'm able to pull myself together for a little bit longer.

…

Katniss is a quiet person, but I like talking to her anyway. She respects me and she's nice, and she is everything that a big sister should be. I tell her about how I like singing and about the mockingjays, and about how strict everything is in District Eleven, and she listens like I matter. Sometimes, she'll even smile and smooth a strand of hair back from my face, and give me this look like she thinks I'm something really special, and it makes my stomach twist uncomfortably.

If she dies, I'll hurt, but I'm painfully aware that she'll hurt just as much if I die.

My mama always told me that I could make friends with anyone, wherever I went. I never thought of that as a curse until now, and it's even worse because everyone I want to be alive right now still _is_, and I can almost still hope that things will turn out okay.

That's the most painful thing. The knowledge that everything is going to fall apart real soon, and the awful uncertainty that comes with not knowing when it'll happen.

…

Katniss's plan to destroy the Career's supplies is good, and so I go along with it. I feel guilty, but Marvel is resourceful. He'll be fine so long as he doesn't meet Katniss while she's on her mission.

I morbidly wonder if it would take him longer to throw or her longer to shoot.

It's a close enough thing that I can't help but worry they might just kill each other.

"Katniss?" I whisper, when our plan is finished and she's getting ready to leave. "Please be safe." _And don't kill my other friend. Please don't kill my other friend. I don't want him to die. I really don't want him to die. _

She hugs me, but can't manage a smile.

"I'll try."

…

I know that she's succeeded when I hear the explosion, and for a moment I'm almost happy, up until the cannon goes off right afterwards. I'm forced to stay in a tree until nightfall, but I peek out anyway and try not to smile when I see the face of the boy from District Three.

Not Marvel. She didn't kill Marvel. It was a stranger. Just a stranger.

I am starting to be grateful for the deaths of others, and I am not sure how to take that.

…

I'm on my way back to Katniss when the net closes around me.

It's a trap, I know it's a trap, and I'm terrified that Cato or Clove is going to find me and I'm so scared that I can't find the common sense to keep quiet. I start screaming instead, shrieking and crying out as loudly as I can. I feel helpless and defenseless and _why didn't I stay in the trees_?

Then I hear footsteps thrashing towards me and I slam my mouth shut because Katniss doesn't move like that and I taught Marvel not to move like that, and-

"Oh god, Rue. Dammit, dammit, dammit."

I'm so relieved that I almost cry, and then he's kneeling beside me and cutting away the net and as soon as I'm free, my arms are around his neck.

"That wasn't supposed to be for you," he whispers. "I'm so sorry."

I realize that he's the one who set it and that he probably intended it to be for Katniss, but I can't be mad. He only wants to get home, like the rest of us, and he can't do that if everyone else isn't dead. It's morbid and awful, but it's also our reality right now, and there's no way I could hold it against him.

"It's okay," I say softly. Then I feel eyes on us and I look back and see Katniss watching with her bowstring pulled.

If I wasn't terrified before, I most definitely am now.

Marvel sees too, and he lets go of me and falls back on his butt with such a shocked expression that it would be funny if the situation was any different.

"Please don't shoot," I whisper. "He just helped me."

"He's a Career, Rue," says Katniss.

"He's also my friend."

Katniss lowers the bow, the expression on her face some mixture of confused and shocked and utterly flabbergasted, but she isn't trying to shoot my friend anymore, and that stops the feeling of panic that had been building in my chest.

"We could make an alliance," I suggest hopefully. I look imploringly at Marvel. "Your supplies are gone, and you'd only be going back to Cato and Clove. If you come with us, we'd outnumber them."

Marvel has been startled out of keeping his guard up, and he looks shaken and terrified. He's not an idiot; he knows how easily he could have been killed just now.

"If she promises not to kill me in my sleep," says Marvel quickly, in a trembling voice, "I'll go along with anything you want."

Katniss is expressionless.

"Okay." Her eyes narrow at Marvel. "But only for Rue."

…

We eat together that evening. Katniss catches a rabbit and Marvel provides dried fruit and I go to the river and fill our canteens with water. As we finish our little meal, Katniss asks Marvel why he spared me, and we take turns, speaking utter nonsense as we attempt to explain something that really can't be explained.

"She stole Cato's knife," says Marvel.

"We ran into each other in the training room," I add.

"I called her a target. She made me see things differently."

"He taught me how to throw knives, and I showed him how to sneak." I look at him when I say that and add accusingly, "You didn't do very well though. I heard you coming from a mile away when I was caught up in the net."

He smiles sheepishly.

"I panicked." Then he looks at Katniss. "Not that I'm very good at sneaking anyway. Not like you."

"But you did get better after I taught you how to dance," I point out.

We both laugh at the look on Katniss's face, and I think she starts to trust him just a little bit more after that.

…

That night, when Marvel's on watch duty and I can't sleep, he asks me how Katniss and I ended up together.

"She was wearing a mockingjay pin, so I helped her," I say.

Then I tell him about the mockingjays in District Eleven, and how I used to sing to them and they would all sing back. I add that I didn't think anyone kind enough to volunteer for her sister could be all that bad anyway, but that the pin was what made me decide for sure.

"You're too trusting," says Marvel. "Me, her… we both could've been bad people. We both could've hurt you."

"I won't blame either of you if you do," I whisper. "You both want to get home too. I trust you, but that doesn't mean I don't think you'll hurt me."

"Silly Rue," says Marvel.

Then he hugs me tightly and tells me to go to sleep.

…

Katniss insists on hunting the next day. I follow her and she sends Marvel off to collect berries, because no matter how much better he's gotten at sneaking, he still isn't _quiet_.

I panic when a cannon goes off and run towards where we left him. We almost run into each other, and he hugs me close and we both snap, "Don't do that to me again," at almost the exact same time.

When we separate, I notice the girl lying dead only a few yards away.

"What happened?" Marvel asks.

I look at her hands and see that she was holding berries. Nightlock.

"Where'd she get this?" I mutter. "It's poisonous."

Marvel goes pale and breathes, "Oh _fuck_."

At which point I notice the pile of deep purple berries that he'd piled up for us.

I hit him because he's an idiot, but mostly I'm just relieved. Tears well up in my eyes, and I hug him tightly and cry into his shirt while he holds me.

Before we go, Marvel sneaks the nightlock into his jacket pocket when he thinks I'm not looking.

…

That night, I hear him talking to Katniss.

"Please, just keep them on you. I won't tell you what to do. You have a sister to get home to. But if it comes down to you and Rue, and you can't finish things…"

"That's what you're planning, isn't it?"

"Winning isn't worth it," he says.

"Then why'd you volunteer?"

"Because I was a fucking idiot."

They're silent for a very long time, until Marvel asks, in a calculated voice that tells me he knows _exactly_what he's saying: "What kind of sick-minded fucks get off on watching shit like this? What kind of _monsters_enjoy seeing girls like Rue die?"

Katniss chokes on her next breath. It sounds like she tries to speak several times, but can't make the words come out.

When she finally does find her voice, she sounds utterly and terribly sad.

"They'll never let you out now. You can't say things like that and get away with it."

"My life hasn't been worth much," he says, and I can hear in his voice that he's got a twisted smirk on his face; not happy with his fate, but at the same time proud that he just said something that no doubt has all of Panem reeling with shock. "Figured I might as well make my death mean something."

I don't sleep at all after that.

…

When I sit up the next morning, Katniss is staring at a sleeping Marvel and looking very, very sad.

"I heard him," I say. "What he said."

Katniss laughs hollowly.

"He isn't the type to do things half way, is he?"

"No," I whisper hoarsely. "He isn't."

Her eyes find mine.

"You heard about the nightlock too."

"Yes. And if you even consider killing yourself for me, I will _never_forgive you."

She looks away.

"Don't worry about it Rue."

It's an evasive answer and not the response I was looking for, and suddenly I am uncomfortably aware that Marvel isn't the only one I should be worried about.

...

**Author's Note: **

**Not much to say. Thanks for the response, I guess. I know a lot happens very quickly in this chapter, but hopefully that doesn't turn anyone off from the story. **

**The next 'part' is the last. I have started a sequel, which I'll probably start posting before long. It'll be longer than this, but I'm not sure by how much yet. I guess it depends. Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. **


	4. Chapter 4

**IV: Falling Action**

...

A cannon goes off later that morning, and we all know that it's probably Peeta. None of us have heard of anything going wrong with Cato, Clove, or Thresh. Peeta has been hurt for days.

No one says this out loud; rather, we go awkwardly silent for a really long time. Through breakfast and most of the morning, Katniss retreats into her thoughts and neither Marvel and I have the heart to disturb her.

It isn't until after we've started walking, not heading in any particular direction but simply making an effort not to stay put for too long, that a little of the depressing atmosphere lifts. Soon after, Marvel evaporates it completely when he stops and points at something in the trees, his eyes lit up with almost childish excitement.

"Is that a mockingjay?" he breathes, as though mockingjays are amazing mythical creatures. Although I can see why he's excited to see one, with how highly I've spoken about them.

I follow his gaze, and smile as I tell him that it is.

"They're everywhere in here," I add.

"And if I sing something… they'll instantly sing the same thing back?"

"Every time."

Katniss shakes her head.

"When my dad used to sing, the mockingjays would go silent. They'd take up the tune eventually, but it wasn't for a long while after he stopped." She smiles sadly. "He had a beautiful voice."

"Do you sing?" Marvel asks. I'm surprised by how genuinely interested he sounds.

"Not anymore."

"That's too bad." He smiles charmingly. "I bet you have a beautiful voice."

Katniss turns red and shifts uncomfortably, and I decide to say something before she starts feeling awkward.

"I can make the mockingjays sing." I smile at Katniss. "They don't go silent for me."

"It's because they know you want them to sing with you," Marvel says lightly. He ruffles my hair, and I smile at him, wishing that this could last forever.

"Either way, they _do _copy me. Wanna hear?"

Marvel nods with over-exaggerated enthusiasm, so I sing four soft notes. The mockingjays pick up the tune, and the whole forest is soon alive with sound. Marvel tosses an arm around my shoulder and says that it's beautiful. He tries it himself, this time with a slightly longer string of notes, and his eyes shine in amazement when the mockingjays copy him too.

Both of us look expectantly towards Katniss. After a moment of hesitation, she sings her own short tune.

The forest goes silent. She blushes when she notices Marvel and I staring.

"That was beautiful," I whisper. I want to ask if she couldn't sing something _real_, instead of just notes, but it isn't the time or the place. I don't want to put her on the spot like that anyway.

"You _are _pretty amazing, Girl on Fire," says Marvel. He reaches out and flicks Katniss's braid and there's something in his eyes that makes it look like he's seeing her for the first time. He smiles crookedly and drops his eyes to his feet. "I would've liked to get to know you better."

"We're not dead yet," says Katniss slowly, as though something's just dawning on her. "I think… I think maybe we _should _get to know each other. As _friends_. Not allies."

Marvel's eyes sparkle, and he says, "You're brilliant."

…

We're still far enough away from the Cornucopia that we can talk while we're walking, so there is no immediate danger in going along with Katniss's idea. All three of us know the deeper implications of what she's suggesting, but Marvel has gotten it into his head that he's a rebel anyway, and I like the idea too much to turn it down, so we ignore the potential consequences and start talking.

Marvel goes first.

He begins by going into detail about why he volunteered. In addition to his sister, he has two older brothers. Both of them are better at everything than he is, and his father always overlooked him because of it. His mother died when he was eight, and no one really paid much attention to him at all after that.

"I told you I wanted his respect," says Marvel. "I would've settled for less. I just wanted him to _look at me._"

He says more, too. He tells us about how amazing Gemma, his sister is. He talks about training and how many hours he spent working out at the Academy, about how he'd stay there even longer than he had to, because he was _the best_, and he liked that at least the instructors paid attention to him, that at least _they _didn't think he was a failure.

He adds that he grew up in a really well-off family. His father was a big perfume producer, so they had a big house and lots of stuff, but he was almost always lonely anyway. The size of his house only made it feel emptier when no one was there, and what few friends he had really only cared about his money.

He looks at me after he says that, and then he smiles sadly and says, "Actually, Rue… I think you're probably the best friend I've ever had."

I can't quite keep tears from welling up in my eyes at his words.

…

Katniss mostly tells us about Prim, about how much she loves her sister and how _kind _the younger girl is. She talks about how her sister healed Buttercup the cat and Lady the goat, and says that she would have volunteered for a lot worse than the Hunger Games if it meant keeping her safe.

She briefly mentions her father's death, and how her family almost died of starvation, and then she talks in-depth about how Peeta Mellark saved her life. She talks about Gale and Madge, and the Seam and her small house and how the people never had enough to eat, but everyone looked out for each other as best they could.

She says that she's going to _miss all of them_, and when the words leave her lips, the air seems to be sucked out of the arena because it is very obvious that she is expecting to die.

I know why. I know what she's thinking, and I open my mouth to tell her _no_, but Marvel cuts me off. He asks if she's ever had a boyfriend, and when she says that she's never had time for guys, he tells her that it'd be a shame if she died without her first kiss.

He swoops forward and lightly pecks her on the lips, and as he's pulling away, I don't miss how he brushes his lips against her ear and whispers something that sounds a lot like, "_Thank you_."

He sees it too, sees how resigned she is, and he's _grateful for it. __He… he just did that as a gift, because he's glad that she just implied what she did, that she __knows __she's going to die… because she's going to be trying to get me out first, before herself. _

I want to snap at both of them and tell them _not to do this_, but Katniss doesn't let me.

"What about you, Rue?" she asks. Her face is red from Marvel's kiss and I can see him regarding her with amused affection. I wonder vaguely if they would ever come to really _like _each other with time, but don't let myself speculate. No use dwelling on something that can never happen. "Tell us about yourself."

"No," I say. "Not until you promise not to do anything stupid."

"You overheard Marvel last night. He doesn't have a chance anymore anyway."

"And you, Katniss?" I demand.

She smiles sadly.

"Prim will understand."

"Now start talking," says Marvel quickly, before I can protest. "I want to know everything about you."

And because I don't feel like I really have any choice, I begin to speak.

I tell them about each and every one of my siblings. About working in the orchards and jumping through the trees and how I liked to imagine I was flying. I tell them about Willow, who has been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and how on our days off, we go to the meadows and watch the clouds and sing to the mockingjays.

I talk about the bonfires we sometimes have on special holidays. I tell them about how I met Thresh before the Games, when he helped me pick up my books after I tripped and fell and dropped them one day on my way home from school. I talk about my parents and my neighbors and how everyone eats together and works together during the harvests.

I tell them things that I haven't told anyone else because I know that these two people intend to die for me, and even though I'm going to try to keep them from going through with their stupid plan, I know that I might not succeed.

If I can't keep them from sacrificing themselves, I at least want them to know who it is they're dying for.

…

Peeta's face appears in the sky that evening, and even though we all kind of expected it, Katniss goes pale anyway.

"I'm sorry," says Marvel.

"It's not _your _fault."

She says it in a way that leaves no doubt as to whose fault she thinks it is.

I wonder if we are being shown at all anymore, or if we've been deemed dangerous and rebellious and have lost all our screen time.

…

We get really close to the Cornucopia the next day, and I climb a tree to try to get an idea of what's down there.

Cato and Clove are both sitting near the lake, and I imagine that Thresh is close now too. When I look at the sea of grain, it is smoldering. There's been a fire there recently—they've chased him out.

"We'll wait one more day," says Marvel, when I tell them all of this. "See if Thresh doesn't make an appearance."

None of us are eager to end this, because we all know what it means.

"Okay," Katniss agrees. "We'll wait."

…

The three of us lay close together that night. Marvel is on one side of me and Katniss is on the other, and each of them has one of my hands in both of theirs. No one is given guard duty because we all know that none of us will actually sleep.

It's nice, lying there with them. I feel warm and safe, and I can almost imagine that everything's going to be alright.

After a while, Katniss starts singing softly. It's a lullaby about meadows and safety and dreams coming true. I don't know if she's singing it to me or Marvel or herself, but it's sad and beautiful and I start crying before it's over.

"I'm scared," Marvel admits when she's done. His voice is hoarse, and when I look, there are tears in his eyes. "More scared than I've ever been in my life."

"So am I," says Katniss.

I don't say anything, because what right do I have to be scared when they're the ones expecting to die?

…

A cannon goes off some time later.

I worry that it's Thresh, but I can't save everyone. Can't save _anyone_.

So I tell myself that I'll mourn him later, if there is a later.

…

"If I die today," says Marvel the next morning, "at least I'll have spent my last night sleeping with two beautiful girls."

Katniss blushes and I manage a smile, and it lightens the mood just a little.

…

"I don't want you two to die for me," I repeat as we walk towards the Cornucopia. "Please don't die for me. I wouldn't be able to stand it."

"It won't just be for you," says Marvel. "Something like this… it's like a little spark that might just start a big-ass fire."

"Marvel the revolutionary. Never would've expected _that_," mutters Katniss.

But his words make me feel better.

He's right. Nothing like this has ever happened before, and if I do win because of him and Katniss… it'll be _big_.

…

"Take this," says Marvel as we come to a stop at the edge of the Cornucopia. He presses a throwing knife into my hand. "Just in case."

"Keep your distance," Katniss adds.

Because if I go with them, they'll be distracted trying to protect me. I know that and nothing I say will change it, so I nod and tell her I will.

We all three hug each other.

And then they go.

…

I watch from the trees.

I was right about Thresh dying—Cato and Clove are still both alive, and they are waiting for Katniss and Marvel.

The two pairs exchange words that I can't hear, and then everything is happening so fast that I can hardly follow it.

An arrow hits Clove in the leg. A knife hits Katniss in the shoulder. Cato ducks Marvel's spear and slices him across the stomach.

Cato runs to Clove.

I sneak out of my hiding place.

Marvel staggers and holds back a scream and there is pain all over his face, but he doesn't fall. Instead, he takes out a knife and holds it with the hand _not _pressed again his bloody stomach, and he approaches Cato from behind.

Cato doesn't hear him coming, and Marvel wraps his arm around Cato's neck and the last thing he does is slit the other Career's throat.

They collapse at the same time.

_Boom. Boom._

Clove howls and grabs a knife and starts to throw, but she doesn't see me.

I flick my wrist a moment before she does.

The knife buries itself in her chest, and her arm stops mid-motion.

_Boom._

I can't comprehend that I just killed someone or that Marvel is dead or that these Games are almost over. Not yet. Now all that I can see is Katniss kneeling on the ground and blood welling up around the knife in her shoulder and nightlock berries shining in her hands.

I rush over and fall to the ground next to her, and I don't know what to say or do or think because this is too awful for words.

"Make sure Prim is taken care of," she whispers hoarsely. "_Please_."

"Let me eat them," I whisper, my eyes on the nightlock. "Katniss, let me eat those berries."

"Rue, I have things I want to say, but I won't say any of them if I think you'll try to stop me," Katniss says hoarsely. "Please. Let me talk."

And there's nothing I can do, so I nod and take her free hand and keep my mouth shut even though it's the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.

"Make sure Prim is okay," says Katniss first. "And let her know that I love her more than anything, but that I had to do this."

"You don't have to-"

"_No_," says Katniss. "I do; if I let you die now, I wouldn't be able to live with myself afterwards. It wouldn't be worth it. Now promise me. Please."

"I promise," I whisper, and I can hardly hear myself over the tears in my voice.

"Don't forget this. Me or Marvel. Okay, Rue? Never, ever forget."

I'm shaking everywhere, and my heart hurts so badly that I can hardly breathe.

"I won't, Katniss," I sob. "Never."

"Take my pin," she says. "My mockingjay pin. I want you to have it."

I unclasp the pin from her jacket, and hold it so tightly that I worry it'll break.

"Thank you."

Then she leans away from me, like she knows I'm thinking about smacking the berries out of her hands, and quickly brings the nightlock to her mouth. She me straight in the eye and chews and swallows.

I reach out and hug her tightly and don't let go even after the cannon goes off and I am announced as the winner of the 74th Hunger Games.

…

When I wake up, Seeder is sitting at the foot of my bed. I think of Marvel and Katniss and Thresh and Peeta and all of the others, and I can't do anything but wrap my arms around her and cry.

"I didn't want them to. I never would've expected…"

"We know, Rue. We all know."

She holds me tightly and lets me cry myself out.

When I'm done, she pulls back and says, "President Snow wasn't happy with your friends. He isn't happy with you."

"Marvel was right, wasn't he? About the spark?"

"There were revolts back home," she whispers. "Things are starting Rue, and you will suffer if you are not careful."

I'm scared, but I'm also excited. This is what they wanted. This is what they died for.

"I think," I tell her, my voice laced with determination, "that maybe I'm done being careful."

…

My stylist helps me make an impression, although I'm not sure if she intends to or not.

I am dressed in a delicate pink sundress, and apple blossoms are arranged in my hair. My shoes are simple and white, and the only jewelry I am given is Katniss's mockingjay pin.

I look exactly how I feel: young and small and _painfully _fragile.

I hope it horrifies the Capitol, just a little. I hope that seeing a devastated little girl survive a fight to the death will make them see. That it will make them recognize how awful it is that they watched and laughed and cheered while my friends died.

But when I show up, they scream and clap and are as blind as always. I can't stop from shaking my head in disappointment, and there are tears in my eyes when I sit next to Caesar.

He smiles and says I did well, and then he does his best to stick with 'safe' topics. He asks me about how I feel _now_. Nothing about my time in the arena or about Marvel or Katniss. He asks how I like being a victor and if I like the pretty pink dress my stylist made me and what I'll do when I get home.

To answer the last question, I manage a smile and whisper, "I'll do exactly what I told Katniss. I won't forget."

His eyes cloud over, and he looks at me sadly and ends the interview right away after that.

…

The recap comes next, but it isn't even a quarter of the normal length.

All of the deaths are shown in full, but nothing more. Katniss doesn't even get that much—they show her dead body and that's it. Nothing of me and her or me and Marvel or the three of us all together. No singing or laughing or talking.

_Nothing_that even hints at what they sacrificed.

I am angry, but I am not surprised, and I suddenly hate the Capitol more than I've ever hated anything in my life.

It scares me, how brightly that hatred burns.

But it makes me feel stronger, so I hold onto it tightly.

…

The interview I'm supposed to have the next day is cancelled, and I feel like throwing a tantrum when Seeder tells me so. For a while I pace and rant and have to hold back the urge to start throwing things and screaming.

They're trying to act like Katniss and Marvel never existed, and they're trying to sweep _me _under the rug, after everything I've been through.

"They want to pretend this never happened," Seeder agrees, after she listens to me spout off for longer than I have since I was a small child.

I look straight into her eyes.

"I will _never_ let them do that."

For my last public appearance in the Capitol, my stylist, Hermia, gives me a silver dress with pearls woven into the skirt to represent District One, and gives me Katniss's mockingjay pin to wear to symbolize District Twelve. The cameras eat me up when I arrive at the train platform, but I don't smile.

I look at them sadly and then I hop onto the train that will take me away from this awful place.

I feel different and sad and broken and _so much older than twelve_, but I also feel like maybe I can make the other tributes' deaths mean something, and I will _not _waste that opportunity.

…

…

**Author's Note: **

**Some explanations for this chapter- **

**Firstly, there was no rule change because Rue did not die. If I remember correctly, the movie showed Haymitch seeking out Seneca Crane when Katniss shut down after Rue's death; part of his motivation for the rule change seemed to be getting Katniss out of her funk. I believe something similar was implied in the books, although that might be me looking too much into the timing of the announcement. **

**Either way, it wasn't given until Katniss started acting like she'd lost a bit of her fire. Rue didn't die here, Katniss didn't get depressed, the rules weren't changed, so seeking out Peeta wouldn't have been priority. Along similar lines, Peeta was almost dead when Katniss found him in the book; I _think _I had his cannon go off very close to when that would've been, so his absence/death did make sense. At least, I think, more than working him into the story would have. **

**Secondly, there was obviously more blatant rebellion here than in the Hunger Games. When Marvel and Katniss decided they wanted Rue to win, they quit censoring themselves and started making it a point to be as controversial as possible without simply getting blown up. While they did hug that line on occasion, there was a point where engineering their deaths would have been more trouble than it was worth; the gamemakers knew they would die anyway, and making an obvious effort to off them would've only made the Capitol look worse. **

**In any case, recall that Seneca Crane has been known for questionable decision making as far as Snow is concerned—more on that in the sequel. **

**The Capitol shoving Rue's victory under the rug, as opposed to trying to twist her actions into something else, is mainly because Rue is easily pitiable. Her appearance and mannerisms are so innocent that drawing any attention to her at all would make the Capitol look bad for putting her through so much hurt. Simply by being herself, she can tug at heartstrings in a way Katniss couldn't. If Snow allowed her screen-time, all Rue would have to do was bring up her friends, or cry, or even look tired or sad or harmed in any way, and it would reflect badly on him. **

**So… that was a lot of writing, but I know there've been a few questions about that sort of stuff, so I wanted to make sure all the changes from the book were explained well enough. If there are other questions, I'll be glad to answer them as well. Thanks for all your support, and I hope you stick around for the sequel. **


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